Gabe’s first thought was to make sure Dani was safe. He ran into the bedroom and found her lying on her stomach, sleeping soundly, one arm stretched overhead and the other tucked under her chin; neither the loss of power nor the muted screams had disturbed her one bit. At that moment, nothing would have suited him better than to crawl under those covers and wrap himself around her; instead he whispered “Grazie a Dio” and hurried back into the hallway, donning his jacket and sticking the snub-nosed pistol into his pocket on the way.
He came to the next wing and had just turned the corner when he saw Santo and a man dressed in a suit running up from the opposite end of the corridor. The man stopped at a set of double doors, much like the ones to Gabe and Dani’s suite, stumbling by a chair that had been left in the corridor. He quickly opened the door and headed inside.
“What is wrong?” Santo called out sharply to Gabe in Italian. “What’s happened?”
“Hell if I know. I heard a scream and came to check it out.” Santo stalked into the suite and Gabe followed. The room was dimly lit and a young woman in a nurse’s uniform was leaning over a hospital bed, desperately performing mouth to mouth resuscitation on a woman whom Gabe belatedly realized was Santo’s chronically ill wife, Ornella. It was obvious by the way the gaunt woman stared unwaveringly at the ceiling that she was well and truly dead. The man in the suit came up to the nurse and whispered something in her ear, motioning for her to stop. She looked up to see Santo and began crying.
“Signor Forcelli. I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say. All was well with Mrs. Forcelli and I was sleeping in the bed in the alcove. I didn’t even notice that the electricity had gone out. I didn’t realize that the ventilator was not working. I am so sorry, signore. So very sorry.”
Gabe noticed the nurse seemed as distraught over displeasing Santo as she did over the fact that her patient had died. Santo’s expression was rigid. He shot Gabe a look that said, distinctly, What are you still doing here? “Well, there is nothing more we can do tonight,” Santo announced. “I will call the doctor and have him come and make the pronouncement.” With that he turned and left the room.
“Man, that is one cold fish,” the man in the suit remarked.
“Excuse me,” Gabe said, “but what are you…who—”
“Antonio Bonafacio of Veneto Security Systems, at your service,” the man said, and bowed slightly.
“Security? I don’t understand.”
The man glanced at the nurse, who was still distraught over Signora Forcelli’s death. “It’s all right, Claudia. You are not to blame.” He motioned to Gabe to join him near the door. “You see, the patient, Signora Forcelli…she didn’t feel safe,” the guard explained. “She hired our firm to keep a vigil outside her door, twenty-four hours a day. My shift started four hours ago.” He shrugged. “It is a living…although it’s apparent this assignment is over.”
Gabe was still confused. “So if you’re security for his wife, why were you with Signor Forcelli?”
“The lights went out and he asked if I would come with him while he went to check the circuit breakers. He seemed agitated. Apparently he feels somewhat vulnerable too.”
“Ah. So Signora Forcelli needed oxygen at all times, then?”
“Yeah, she had bad lungs.”
“How long was the power off?”
The guard pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “May as well turn that off,” he said to the nurse, pointing to the oxygen machine. He lit his cigarette. “At least I can smoke now, eh?”
Gabe felt like busting the guy’s chops just on principle. “I said, how long was the power off?”
The man took a drag before answering. “I’d say ten to fifteen minutes max. Signor Forcelli came running up right after they went out and asked me to help him.”
“What, he doesn’t know where his own circuit box is?”
“I don’t know. As I said, he was a bit flipped out himself.” The guard looked at Gabe and squinted. “Ah, may I ask why you’re asking all these questions? I mean, who are you?”
Gabe explained that he was a guest of the family and happened to be a detective.
“Ah, like those CSI guys on TV, eh? I can never figure out how they solve all those cases, and so fast, too.”
What a putz. Gabe turned to the nurse, who was still sniffling and fussing around the body of Signora Forcelli. “So, she couldn’t have gone even fifteen minutes without oxygen? And there was no generator backup?”
Claudia’s tears started flowing again. “That’s just it. She should have been able to make it that long. We didn’t think a generator was necessary. We have portable canisters, should the need arise. I have been with her almost every night for the past six months and I did not realize she had deteriorated so much.” The nurse began to cry in earnest. “Excuse me,” she said, and retreated to the other side of the room.
Gabe walked over to Ornella’s body and leaned over to examine her face closely. The nurse had closed the older woman’s eyes, but her mouth remained open, as if she’d been fighting for her last breath, which of course, she had been. He was about to turn back when he noticed something odd: one of her front teeth was chipped. It wasn’t a large break, but still…“Nurse? Could you come over here for a moment?”
Claudia reluctantly stepped forward and stood next to him. “Yes?”
“Did Signora Forcelli have a chipped front tooth when she went to sleep this evening?”
The nurse peered into her patient’s face and frowned. “No, signore. No! Her teeth were fine earlier. I brushed them for her before she went to sleep.”
Gabe turned to the guard. “I think you have more than a power outage on your hands here. I suggest you call the police.”
Dani was still in a state of shock. When she’d fallen asleep, the only thing on her mind had been Gabe’s rejection…and promise. The next thing she knew, Gabe was gently shaking her and explaining that her aunt had not only died, but possibly been murdered.
Despite Gabe’s suspicions, the doctor summoned by Santo recorded Ornella Forcelli’s cause of death as ‘complications from emphysema.’ By six a.m., everyone involved in the incident had been interviewed by local investigators, including Dani, who’d been oblivious to it all. Ornella’s room had been cordoned off and her body transported to the local morgue for an autopsy.
“Just a precaution, you understand,” the officer in charge had explained to the group. “Whenever a death occurs that is out of the ordinary, we must take this step. It is the law. Her remains should be available in the next day or two for burial.”
Gabe had gone back to bed as soon as his interview was over and suggested Dani do the same, but she was too upset to sleep.
Fausta, she noticed, had quickly stepped into her role as chatelaine, making sure that everyone, including members of the investigative team, were properly fed and made comfortable. She spoke quietly with Santo, who had cooperated with the authorities but who was still fuming that any investigation was necessary at all. Dani saw him nod and say, “Yes, yes, handle it,” before he stalked out of the room. Fausta then turned to Dani and Aldo (who had also slept through the ordeal) and announced that unlike Mando’s public mass and reception, Ornella would be laid to rest after a very small and very private service. “If you will excuse me, I must tell Signora Forcelli’s family what has transpired.” She then left the room.
Aldo made his own exit soon after, citing the fact that he was needed at the church “and must begin my prayers for Ornella.” Dani couldn’t help but envy both of them—they each had something to do, an activity they felt could somehow help the situation. Dani, on the other hand, felt completely powerless, and she hated it. She spent the rest of the early morning hours mentally rehashing everything that had happened. When Gabe joined her later in the library, she vented her frustration on him.
“I just spoke with Ornella yesterday,” she said, pacing the room. Her head was throbbing both from her hangover and the tension of the whole ordeal. “She told me straight out how rotten Santo was and how he’d been practically begging her for money to buy Alberghi Paradisi. She said he even approached her lawyer for a side deal, but the guy looked at the numbers and told her it didn’t make financial sense.” Dani stopped and looked directly at Gabe. “She just about came right out and said my father was murdered because he wouldn’t vote to buy the hotels. She told me she knew she didn’t have much time left, but that she wanted to go out on her own terms, which is why she hired the bodyguards.”
“Well, those were damn sure not her terms,” Gabe said. “That woman was suffocated.”
“How you can be sure of that before they’ve even done the autopsy?”
“Look. She hadn’t shown any signs of distress when she went to sleep. But when the power goes out for a few minutes, she keels over and her tooth breaks off? Uh uh. My money’s on the exam showing her airway was cut off with enough force that her tooth chipped in the process. And if they do their job right they’ll probably find pillow fibers on her face or down her throat. The question is, why? Mando had voting rights, but Santo’s wife didn’t. Logic tells me your grandmother should be in danger, not your aunt.”
“Okay, now you are really making me nervous.” Dani wrapped her arms protectively around her body. “Are we safe here?”
Gabe took her gently by the shoulders. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t be. Santo offered you a job, didn’t he? Now me, on the other hand…” He gave her a light squeeze.
Dani reached out to touch his arm, searching his eyes to see if he was kidding. “What are you talking about?”
“Santo made it crystal clear at our meeting yesterday that I’m not good enough for you and he asked that I leave La Tana as soon as possible.”
The adrenaline that had receded over the past few hours surged throughout her body again. “Are you…are you thinking about leaving?” She swallowed hard. “I guess I wouldn’t blame you. I mean, it’s not your fight, and—”
“Shush,” he said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to get the hell out, and probably not even then. I don’t like what’s going on here, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you face it on your own.”
Dani let out a lungful of air she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Okay then. Where do we go from here?”
Gabe hesitated before answering. “Um…”
“Oh no, you’re not going to pull the ‘you’ve got to stay home, little lady’ routine again, are you? Because I—”
Gabe took Dani’s hand and led her to the sofa. His voice pitched low, he leaned toward her. “Listen to me, Daniela. Very carefully. Marco and I have a lead on one of the thugs who was there the night your father died. This guy’s not a choir boy, so we have to meet him at his level. If we can scare him into turning, it might be the break we’ve been looking for. I cannot have you there distracting me. You could make it even more dangerous for all of us.”
Dani looked into Gabe’s eyes and squeezed his hand, trying not to show the palpable fear that seemed to have taken up residence inside her. “You…you and Marco know what you’re doing, right? I mean, you won’t take any unnecessary chances? I know Gina would kill Marco if he got himself hurt…” They both smiled at the ridiculousness of her statement.
“I do this kind of thing for a living, bella,” he said, reaching out to stroke an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “So does Marco. Don’t forget that. And we have too much to live for to blow it by being sloppy. I promise to call and let you know everything’s fine. So no worries, okay?”
“Well, you can’t ask that of me, Constable. But I will stay put until you get back.”
“Beautiful and wise—I like that in a woman,” he teased. Then, in a more serious tone, he added, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get those company names you talked about. There may be a connection between our guy and one of them.”
Dani followed him back to their suite, grateful for the change in topic. Amidst all the turmoil she’d almost forgotten her humiliating attempt at seduction the night before, and she hoped against hope that Gabe had forgotten it too. What in God’s name had she been thinking? Well, she hadn’t been thinking, that’s what. She resolved never to drink again and to keep their friendship right where it belonged: strictly platonic. Now if she could only stop herself from worrying to death about his safety.
“You are early,” Santo said, looking up from the papers on his desk, cigar in hand. “Our meeting wasn’t scheduled for another ten minutes.”
Dante stood in the doorway to Santo’s office. “If you’d rather I come back…”
“No, no, come in. Tell me what you found out.” Santo turned back to his papers, as if Dante were an office boy telling him the mail was in.
Dante sat in one of the oversized chairs. He knew that Santo liked his petitioners to feel small in his presence, but fortunately the chair was just the right size for someone of Dante’s build. “It’s not good news, I’m afraid.”
Santo looked up. “Oh?”
Santo isn’t used to hearing bad news, Dante thought. Maybe I can use that. “The employee you asked me to locate, Carla Rinaldi, is nowhere to be found. She left her position abruptly and has apparently moved out of Milan permanently, with no forwarding address. I’ve heard rumors, however.”
“What rumors?” Santo asked, his eyes locked on Dante’s.
Oh, he’s paying attention now. “That she knew something about the Alberghi Paradisi hotel acquisition and had told Uncle Mando what she knew. He was going to put a stop to it…and that’s why he was killed.”
Santo viciously stubbed out his cigar. “That’s preposterous. Ridiculous. Mando had reservations about the leveraging, that’s all. He was coming around when the accident happened—”
“I heard they are reopening the investigation as we speak.”
“Who told you that?”
“Somebody who knows somebody. You know how it goes.”
“No, I don’t know how it goes.” Santo leaned back in his chair, his focus now entirely on Dante. “But you’d be happy if the purchase didn’t go through, wouldn’t you?”
Dante shrugged. “You didn’t consult me, but you obviously know I don’t think it’s a wise move. I told my father as much.”
“Yes, Aldo had the temerity to tell me he wasn’t going to vote for it…until I convinced him otherwise. I told him it wouldn’t be a good career move for you.”
Santo’s demeanor screamed Take that, you punk, and it dawned on Dante that Santo must be so desperate to acquire the hotels that he’d risk all-out family war. But why? “I thought it was more for Dani’s career than my own,” he countered.
“Ah, so she told you, did she? Well, she would be an excellent addition to the company, and to the family.” He leaned forward again, all business. “But that means the purchase must take place, and soon.”
“What’s the hurry, uncle?”
“I told you not to call me that. As to the other, I don’t want Dani to get cold feet. She is capable of taking over a lot of responsibility, which would be helpful to you as well.”
“Me? How so?”
Santo was in full bullshit mode now. “You work too hard, for one thing. You should get out more. Find yourself a woman. Quit pining over that whore Agnese.”
Santo’s casual remark hit Dante like a sucker punch. What had he just called Agnese? Dante had to work hard to keep from reacting. “What are you talking about?”
Santo, back in control, started fussing with the papers on his desk. “Come now. It’s common knowledge you hold a torch for her. But trust me, you don’t want soiled goods…even though she gives good head, I’ll grant you that.”
“I said, what are you talking about?” Dante glared at his uncle.
Santo looked up. “I thought you knew. Your father certainly did. Several years ago, Agnese shared my bed. She’s nothing but a tramp, and given your background, you can’t afford to go slumming. If you like, I can set up some introductions, the daughters of some of my wealthy connections. Your birth is a hindrance, but you’re enough of a stud that I’m sure some young heiress will overlook your tainted pedigree.”
At that moment, Dante didn’t trust himself to speak. He slowly got up. “That won’t be necessary,” he said tightly.
“Did I say we were finished?” Santo’s tone was smug; he obviously knew he had scored a direct hit.
“Oh, we’re finished,” Dante said. “I have work to do.” He kept his breathing normal until he reached the door. He turned back to his uncle. “And Santo?”
“Yes?” Santo was smiling now.
“My father may vote for the acquisition, but you still have to convince Dani. So I wouldn’t be taking a victory lap quite yet…not unless you have the funds to buy Alberghi Paradisi yourself.” Dante had the brief satisfaction of watching the smile drain from Santo’s face. He continued down the hall until he was stopped by Santo’s young secretary.
“Signor Trevisan?” she asked shyly.
He almost barked Not now, but stopped himself in time. The poor girl wasn’t to blame that her boss was an asshole. “Yes?”
“How is he?”
“Who?”
“Director Forcelli. Is he doing okay?”
Dante gestured back to Santo’s office. “You mean him? Why wouldn’t he be okay?”
The secretary clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh, you don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Signor Forcelli’s wife died last night.”
“What?” Dante paused and looked back through the inner office at Santo, who was at his desk looking no different than any other day of the week.
“Yes, after so many years of caring for her. Isn’t that sad? I suppose he came in to work to take his mind off his sorrow.”
“Yes, that must be it,” Dante muttered, and continued walking down the hall. Jesus. They don’t make them colder than that.
Instead of returning to his office, he headed straight out of the building and began walking down Via Scala to the Corso Porta Borsari. At mid-morning the streets were crowded with high-end shoppers looking to spend their money on the likes of Pollini, Furla, and Max Mara. He didn’t notice the pink marble of the walkway, or the bright red geraniums hanging from wrought iron balconies above the storefronts. He didn’t feel the sun on his face or smell the tantalizing aroma of roasted almonds from a sidewalk vendor. He blindly walked on, not even mourning his sickly Aunt Ornella’s death.
All he could think about was the bombshell Santo had laid on him. Agnese had been Santo’s mistress? Several years ago, he’d said. How many years? Had she been with him during college? Or, God forbid, during high school? She’d gone to a convent school, for Chrissakes! How did those two concepts go together? Maybe Santo was lying to get under Dante’s skin. But why? Santo had taken him for granted for so many years that he doubted the man had even given Dante enough thought to come up with something so hurtful. More likely he’d been telling the truth and had blithely assumed Dante knew about his sexual dalliance. And what about the conversation he’d had with his father over dinner? Dante’s admission that he wanted to be with Agnese had definitely shaken his father up. Was Santo right? Was it possible his father had known about the affair all this time?
Dante felt queasy for the first time in years. He took a moment to thoroughly digest what his uncle had said. What if Agnese had had sex with Santo—would he feel differently about her? The answer was…maybe. If she really did sleep with him, what did that say about her character? Did she think it was okay to sleep with a married man? Did that mean she’d sleep with just about anybody? Okay, maybe he was being a hypocrite. He’d certainly had his share of women. But none of them had been married, and he knew that once he settled down, he’d be a faithful husband.
But if Agnese wasn’t choosy about who she slept with, why hadn’t she come on to him? He knew he was considered a good bet in that department. Yet she’d gone out of her way to avoid him, even though he could tell she liked him. Maybe she just didn’t feel attracted to him.
Or maybe she simply wasn’t that type of woman.
He paused in the middle of the path, hardly noticing the stream of shoppers skirting around him. What if…what if Agnese didn’t want to get involved with him because of her background and not his?
It could be she felt ashamed about the decision she’d made to sleep with Santo earlier in her life. That could explain her unwillingness to set foot in La Tana. She just didn’t want to be reminded of her stupidity. That must be it. If it were, could he look past that?
The answer was a resounding Yes. We all make mistakes, he thought. We all deserve second chances. He knew he couldn’t talk to Agnese directly about this without more facts, so he resolved to talk to her mother. Fausta was so controlling, the chances were good she’d know what her daughter had done in the past and how Agnese felt about it now. If he approached the topic with tact, perhaps he could learn something that would help him get through to the love of his life. With grim determination, Dante hailed a taxi to take him to the villa.